[367] S. P. Dom. James I., 23 Dec. 1605.
In his solitude in the Tower, Sir Everard wrote the following lines which, if considerably lacking in merit from a poetical and critical point of view, have some interest on account of their pitiful, though calm and dignified tone, as well as the affection which they exhibit towards his wife and his children; and, as the Protestant Bishop Barlow, in his preface to their publication in 1678, says, "though they be not excellent, yet have" they "a good tincture of Piety and devotion in them."
Come grief, possess that place thy Harbingers have seen, And think most fit to entertain thyself: Bring with thee all thy Troops, and sorrow"s longest Teem Of followers, that wail for worldly pelf: Here shall they see a Wight more lamentable, Than all the troop that seem most miserable.
For here they may discry, if perfect search be made, The substance of that shadow causing woe: An unkind Frost, that caused hopeful Sprouts to fade; Not only mine, but other"s grief did grow By my misdeed, which grieves me most of all, That I should be chief cause of other"s fall.
For private loss to grieve, when others have no cause Of sorrow, is unmeet for worthy mind; For who but knows, that each man"s sinful life still draws More just revenge than he on earth can find.
But to undo desert and innocence, Is, to my mind, grief"s chiefest pestilence.
I grieve not to look back into my former state, Though different that were from present case; I moan not future haps, though forced death with hate Of all the world were bl.u.s.tred in my face: But oh I grieve to think that ever I Have been a means of others misery.
When on my little Babes I think, as I do oft, I cannot chuse but then let fall some tears; Me-thinks I hear the little Pratler, with words soft, Ask, Where is Father that did promise Pears, And other knacks, which I did never see, Nor Father neither, since he promised me.
"Tis true, my Babe, thou never saw"st thy Father since, Nor art thou ever like to see again: That stopping Father into mischief which will pinch The tender Bud, and give thee cause to plain His hard dysaster; that must punish thee, Who art from guilt as any creature free.
But oh! when she that bare thee, Babe, comes to my mind, Then do I stand as drunk with bitterest woe, To think that she, whose worth were such to all, should find Such usage hard, and I to cause the blow, Of her such sufferance, that doth pierce my heart, And gives full grief to every other part.
Hence comes the cause, that each tear striveth to be first, As if I meant to stint them of their course, No salted meats: that done you know my heart would burst With violent a.s.saults of your great force: But when I stay you, "tis for that I fear, Your gushing so will leave me ne"er a tear.
But ah! this doubt, grief says I never need to fear For she will undertake t"afford me store; Who in all her knowledge never cause of woe did hear That gall"d her deeper or gave witness more Of earth"s hard usage, that does punish those That guiltless be, with Fortune"s cruellest blows.
Though further cause of more than utterable grief, As other"s loss I could dilate at large, Which I am cause of, yet her suffering being chief Of all their woes, that sail in this deep Barge Of sorrow"s Sea: I cannot but reflect Hereon more deeply, and with more respect.
On which dear object when I look with grieved mind, Such store of pities see I plead her case, As hardest hearts cause of compa.s.sion there would find; To hear what could be said before that face Which I have wrong"d in causing so to weep; The grief whereof constrains my pen to sleep.
The trial of the prisoners was long delayed; quite ten weeks pa.s.sed between their capture and their sentence; but, as Mr Hepworth Dixon puts it,[368] they were, in fact, "undergoing a course of daily trial by Northampton in the Tower." In the so-called gunpowder plot room, in the Lieutenant"s House, with its panelled walls, and high, wide window, they underwent "a thousand interrogatories from c.o.ke, a thousand hostilities from Waad, and a thousand treacheries from Forsett. This Forsett was one of Northampton"s spies; a useful and despicable wretch, whom his master employed in overhearing and reporting the private conversations of prisoners with each other."
[368] _Her Majesty"s Tower_, Vol. ii. p. 193.
c.o.ke himself, in his speech at the trial, referred to the long delay in bringing the prisoners to the bar, saying[369] "There have been already twenty and three several days spent in Examinations." And he summarized the good results of the delay thus[370]:--"_Veritas Temporis filia_, Truth is the daughter of Time, especially in this case; wherein by timely and often Examinations, First, matters of greatest moment have been lately found out. Secondly, some known Offenders, and those capital, but lately apprehended. Thirdly, sundry of the princ.i.p.al and Arch-traytors before unknown, now manifested, as the Jesuits.
Fourthly--" but he might have abridged this statement into these few words--We hoped to worm some evidence out of the prisoners against Catholic priests.
[369] _Gunpowder Treason_, p. (16).
[370] _Ib._
CHAPTER XIV.
Sir Everard appears to have received several kind communications, whilst in the Tower, from Father Gerard, if we may judge from some of his remarks concerning "my brother" in his letters to Lady Digby.
For instance, we find him writing[371]:--"Let my Brother see this, or know its Contents, tell him I love his sweet comforts as my greatest Jewel in this Place"; in another,[372] "I give my Brother many thanks for his sweet comforts, and a.s.sure him that now I desire death; for the more I think on G.o.d"s mercy the more I hope in my own case: though others have censured our Intentions otherwise than I understood them to be, and though the Act be thought so wicked by those of Judgment, yet I hope that my understanding it otherwise, with my Sorrow for my Error, will find acceptance at G.o.d"s hands." In another he sends a warning to him,[373] "Howsoever my Brother is informed, I am sure they fear him for knowledge of the Plot, for at every examination I am told that he did give the Sacrament to five at one time." And once again,[374] he says:--"Tell my Brother I do honour him as befits me, but I did not think I could have increased so much, loving him more as his charitable Lessons _would_ make me."
[371] _Sir E.D."s Letters_, No. 1.
[372] _Ib._, No. 4.
[373] _Ib._, No. 5.
[374] _Sir E. D."s Letters_, No. 6.
But if Father Gerard had sent very consoling messages to Sir Everard in his imprisonment; on one occasion--it was within a few days of the trial--he wrote him a formal letter, which he sent to Lord Salisbury and the Duke of Lenox, asking them to give it to Sir Everard and hear what he might say in answer to it. To Salisbury himself he wrote another letter, in the course of which he said[375]:--"Sir Everard Digby can testify for me, how ignorant I was of any such matter" [as the Gunpowder Plot], "but two days before that unnatural parricide should have been practised. I have, for full trial thereof, enclosed a letter unto him, which I humbly beseech may be delivered, &c."
[375] S. P. Dom. James I., Vol. xviii. n. 35. But I avail myself of the endering in "Life of Fr. J. Gerard," pp. ccx.x.xi-ccx.x.xvii.
At the same time he wrote to the Duke of Lenox, "My humble pet.i.tion therefore is, that a witness be asked his knowledge who is well able to clear me if he will, and I hope he will not be so unjust in this time of his own danger as to conceal so needful a proof being so demanded of him. Sir Everard Digby doth well know how far I was from knowledge of any such matter but two days before the treason was known to all men. I have therefore written a letter unto him, to require his testimony of that which pa.s.sed between him and me at that time. Wherein, if I may have your lordship"s furtherance to have just trial made of the truth whilst yet he liveth, I shall ever esteem myself most deeply bound, &c, &c."
This letter to Sir Everard, which, of course, would be read first by Salisbury and Lenox, began:--"Sir Everard Digby,--I presume so much of your sincerity both to G.o.d and man, that I cannot fear you will be loath to utter your knowledge for the clearing of one that is innocent from a most unjust accusation importing both loss of life to him that is accused, and of good name also, which he much more esteemeth."
Then he says that upon some false information, given, he supposes, "by some base fellows, desirous to save their lives by the loss of their honesty,"--this looks as if he suspected some of the conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot, imprisoned in the Tower--a "proclamation has been issued against myself and my superior"--this would be Father Garnet--"and one other of the Society," probably Father Oldcorne, "as against three notorious practisers, with divers of the princ.i.p.al conspirators in this late most odious treason of destroying the King"s Majesty and all in the Parliament House with powder. And myself am put in the first place, as the first or chiefest offender therein."
He calls G.o.d to witness that he knew nothing of the plot until it became known publicly; but, he says, "to give more full proof of my innocency to those who also may doubt my words, I take witness to yourself whether you, upon your certain knowledge cannot clear me." At first he would not appeal to Sir Everard because, as he says, "I would not take knowledge of any personal acquaintance with you, especially at your own house, not knowing how far you were to be vouched for your life, and therefore would not add unto your danger,"--_i.e._, by showing that he knew and had harboured a priest. "But now that it appears by your confession and trial in the country that you stand at the King"s mercy for greater matters than your acquaintance with a Priest, I hope you will not be loath, I should publish that which cannot hurt you, and may help myself in a matter of such importance. And as I know you could never like to stoop to so base and unworthy a humour as to flatter or dissemble with any man, so much less can I fear that now (being in the case you are in) you can ever think it fit to dissemble with G.o.d, or not to utter your every knowledge, being required as from him, and in behalf of truth.
Therefore I desire you will bear witness of the truth which followeth (if it be true that I affirm of my demand to you, growing upon my ignorance in the matter then in hand) as you expect truth and mercy at G.o.d"s hand hereafter. First, I desire you to bear witness, whether, coming to your house upon All Souls" Day last--" and then he questions him upon the details, described in a former chapter, of what took place at Gothurst upon All Souls" Day, which are mainly taken from this letter.
He ends by saying, "And thus clear I was from the knowledge of that Plot against the Parliament House, whereof, notwithstanding, I am accused and proclaimed to be a practiser with the princ.i.p.al conspirators. But I refer me to G.o.d and your conscience, who are able to clear me, and I challenge the conscience of any one that certainly expecteth death, and desireth to die in the fear of G.o.d and with hope of His salvation, to accuse me of it if he can. G.o.d, of His mercy, grant unto us all grace to see and do His will, and to live and die His servants, for they only are and shall be happy for ever.--Your companion in tribulation though not in the cause, JOHN GERARD."
Considering the bosom friendship that existed between Gerard and Digby, and the high opinion of the honourable character expressed, in his writings, by the former of the latter, these tremendous exhortations to speak the truth in his favour look a little superfluous. They may have been intended rather for the eyes of Salisbury and Lennox than for those of Digby; for anything which could show an excessive familiarity between Digby and Gerard might have been suspicious evidence against the latter.
There is a postscript, again, which seems written as a suggestion for what Digby should say. "I hope you will also witness with me that you have ever seen me much averted from such violent courses, and hopeful rather of help by favour than force. And, indeed, if I had not now been satisfied by your a.s.surance that there was nothing in hand, it should presently have appeared how much I had misliked any forcible attempts, the counsel of Christ and the commandment of our superiors requiring the contrary, and that in patience we should possess our souls."
To give him his due, Sir Everard Digby spoke boldly in Father Gerard"s favour at his trial. Five-and-twenty years later, Father Gerard wrote, in a letter to Dr Smith, Bishop of Chalcedon,[376] "Sir Everard Digby, who of all the others, for many reasons, was most suspected of having possibly revealed the secret to me, protested in open Court and declared that he had often been instigated to say I knew something of the Plot, but that he had always answered in the negative, alleging the reason why he had never disclosed it to me, because, he said, he feared lest I should dissuade him from it. Therefore the greater part of the Privy Councillors considered my innocence established, &c."
[376] _Life of Father J. Gerard_, p. ccx.x.xviii.
Six months later, Father Fitzherbert, Rector of the English College of Rome, wrote concerning Father Gerard to the same bishop[377] "he was fully cleared of it" [the Gunpowder Plot] "by the public and solemn testimony of the delinquents themselves, namely, of Sir Everard Digby (with whom he was known to be most familiar and confident), who publicly protested at his arraignment that he did never acquaint him with their design, being a.s.sured that he would not like of it, but dissuade him from it; and of this I can show good testimony by letters from London written hither at the time."
[377] Bartoli"s _Inghilterra_, pp. 510, 512.
Probably owing, in the main, to Sir Everard"s declarations of his innocence, Father Gerard was allowed to escape from England, and he survived the Gunpowder Plot thirty-one years. It must not be supposed, however, that he had never suffered for the faith in this country; for he had been terribly tortured, some years before the Gunpowder Plot, in the Tower, from which he escaped.
Topcliffe"s description[378] of "Jhon Gerrarde y{e} Jhezew{t} preest that escaip out of the Tower" may be worthy of a pa.s.sing notice. "Of a good stature sum what highe{r} than S{r} Tho. Layton and upright in his paysse and countenance sum what stayring in his look or Eyes Currilde heire by Nature and blackyshe and not apt to have much heire on his bearde. I thincke his noose sum what wide and turninge Upp Blubarde Lipps turninge outwards Especially the over Lipps most Uppwards toward the Noose Kewryoos in speetche If he do now contynewe his custome And in his speetche he flourrethe and smyles much and a falteringe or Lispinge or dooblinge of his Tonge in his speeche."
[378] S. P. Dom. Elizabeth, Vol. 165 n. 21.
On the very day that Father Gerard"s letter for Sir Everard Digby seems to have been delivered to Lord Salisbury, January 23rd, Sir Everard himself wrote a long letter to his two little sons, the eldest of which was not yet three years old. The writing of it must have caused him much pain; probably, also, many tears. The most remarkable thing about it is that he does not enter upon the question of the cause of his death. As his sons would certainly hear of the manner and reason of it, it might have been well to have spoken plainly on the subject. Nevertheless, there is something dignified in his a.s.sumption of the position of a parent, in giving good advice to his children, without recounting those personal faults and follies, which he might, perhaps, consider it no part of the duty of a father to confess to his sons.
"JESUS MARIA.[379]
"There be many reasons (my dear children) that might disswade me from putting Pen to Paper in this Kind, and onely one which urgeth me to undertake this poor and fruitless pains. Wherefore to tell you what inciteth me to it, is my want of other means to shew my Fatherly affection to each of you (which is so far from uttering, as my mind is willing to accept of poor means, rather than none to bewray my disposition) if I would have been checked from the performance of these lines, by number and probabilities of reasons; I might then have called to mind the unlikelihood, that these would ever have come to your view; with the malice of the world to me, which (I do imagine) will not fail to endeavour to possess you with a loathness to hear of anything that comes from me: as also I might, and do think, on my own disability in advising, with many other disswasive reasons, which my former recited single stirrer-up hath banished. Wherefore to begin with both and each of you, I send you by these my Fatherly and last blessing; which I have not failed to ask at G.o.d"s hands on my knees, that he will grant to descend so effectually on you (that his holy grace accompanying it) it may work in you the performance (on your part) of G.o.d"s sweet and just commandments and on his part to you, the Guerdon that his mercy inricheth his servants with all. Let this end (G.o.d"s service I mean) be the chief and onely contentious strife between you, which with all vehemency and desire each of you may strive to attain soonest. Let this be the mark which your thoughts and actions may still level at; for here is the chiefest Prise, to recompense the best deserver. Believe me in this (my Sons) that though my unripe years afford me not general experience, yet my variety of courses in the world (and G.o.d"s grace to illumine me) may sufficiently warrant the verity of this principle. If you make this your chief business (as you ought to do, and for which end onely you were sent into the world) I doubt not but G.o.d will send you better means for your particular directions, than either the brevity of a Letter or my ability can discharge. So that in this I will say no more, but pray that you may live as I hope to die, which is in the perfect obedience of the Catholick and onely saving Church.